


The Sun and the Moon

by Bookman230



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, OT3, Polyshipping Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookman230/pseuds/Bookman230
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler is a sun. Jack Harkness is a moon. The Doctor's just glad to be in their orbit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sun and the Moon

Rose Tyler is a sun. Maybe a big one- not that Rose Tyler is big. Or that there's anything wrong with being big. Certainly, she has a certain weight and pudge to her that’s unfairly attractive, and- maybe he should amend this train of thought before he even thinks about telling it to Rose. Let’s try again. Rose Tyler is a sun. And yes, that’s a trite metaphor on so many levels. Oooh, blonde hair. Suns can be yellow! That’s original! And a space metaphor, oh, who’d thought _he’d_ of all people would come up with it? But the Doctor’s spent most of his life in space. It’s one of his great loves, and so is his present company. And frankly, he isn’t planning on ever telling Rose all this. It’s rubbish and hackneyed and just… _embarrassing_. He was awful at ‘emotions’ and ‘human connection’. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. Rose Tyler was a sun.

She’s bright. Oh, is she bright, more than she gives herself credit for, and in so many ways. Rich in common sense and able to see what’s inside of the box when all he can think of is how big it is or how he can think out of it. And her smile… it’s blinding. All unabashed emotion and reckless abandon bursting onto her face, as if her body just can’t contain her energy, her confidence, her _Roseness_ for a minute longer. He’s half afraid that one of these days, she’ll smile and he won’t be able to see anything else and he’ll crash the TARDIS right into a wormhole. It’s almost happened more than he wants to admit. He can’t forget her flares, of course, disrupting the seeming smoothness of her surface. The anger, the indignation, the strength… sometimes it’s amusing, sometimes it’s intimidating, sometimes it’s awe inspiring, but it’s always _far_ too sexy. And yes, as bloody obvious and easy as it is… her hair is just _glorious_. Glowing. He’s run his hands through stardust and yet it doesn’t begin to compare to running his hands through her hair. But those are the easy comparisons. Rose Tyler is a sun for much deeper reasons than just those.

Specifically, she’s the type of sun that fosters life. That allows it to bloom. Her light overtakes cold, dead rock and pushes away the darkness and brings it to life. The darkness is pushed down and all that’s left is the brightest, warmest parts of yourself, like it’s been there all along. The sun that ushers in beautiful, peaceful skies that get rid of all worries. The sun that leads the birds to sing and remind you of the beauty of the universe’s melody. The sun that against all odds, formed in the just right spot, with just the right heat, to be in the same orbit as an undeserving and unsuspecting cold planet that’s lucky enough to be warmed by her. Rose Tyler is a sun, and a sun is the source of all life. She brought him back to life, and everywhere she goes she does the same for every last person she meets. Rose Tyler is a sun, and he thinks he’d let himself burn in her flame before letting her burn out.

Now Jack… oh, Captain Jack Harkness… that man’s a moon, through and through. And yes, he’s well aware of the mooning jokes surrounding that metaphor. He’s certainly not complaining about Jack’s moon, though he makes sure not to praise him too much. Can’t have that man getting too big of a head (besides his other head, says a little voice in his head, and dammit, Jack’s gotten him to think in innuendos too. It’s a curse), even if that smug, satisfied grin is a pleasure to see. Where was he? Oh, yes. Jack’s a moon. He’s not too keen on telling Jack this train of thought either. He’d tease him about going soft, Rose would join in, and the Doctor would have to show them the ways he _isn’t_ soft (damn Jack’s influence again), and they’d never get anything done. The point was, Jack is the moon.

The man’s bright in ways Rose isn't, of course. A moon can seem plain and simple and uncomplicated to some at first glance, but underneath is a wealth of depth, water or life or lost civilizations. Similarly, Jack is so much more than his initial mask. The Doctor’s met few who gets people as much as Jack does, and even fewer who simultaneously have so much faith and doubt in people. And with every day, Jack gets them more and more, and the faith starts to outweigh the doubt, little by little. Where Rose glows, Jack shines, a glint in the darkness. It’s a tell only those who know him can see. In between the flirts and the jokes and even the stubbornness, there’s a spark in his eyes that gleams the more he likes you. And Jack likes something in everyone. A moon sees people in the dark, at their worst, and stays with them, unjudging. The wolves howl to it, knowing it’ll accept the primal feelings inside. More, love them for it. Sometimes, a man wants a sun to blind him to his faults, to make him only see his good side. And sometimes, he needs a moon to see the flaws, and show him those are good too, in their imperfection. Jack’s voice is intimate, understanding, yet loose. As if he understands, as if he’d never judge, as if he sees it all and doesn’t mind because he knows with all your mistakes, you can and will do right. Sometimes, the Doctor even believes he _does_ understand. He _does_ believe in him. Jack looks at him some days, when he thinks he won’t notice (he _always_ notices, it’s almost offensive how oblivious they think he can be sometimes), like he can’t believe the Doctor believes in him, and it boggles his mind. Because Jack is so easy to believe in.

Jack is a soldier, in all the best ways. Unwaveringly loyal, but never afraid to challenge, to advise. The moon that illuminates you and makes you, one way or another, see your missteps, like the nights where you lie awake thinking about how you screwed up so stupidly back at the Academy centuries or however long ago it was. That wrong answer haunts him to this day, and he still remembers the right one in the back of his mind. Always reverse the polarity of the neutron flow. Anyway, the night is when you are both most appalled and accepting of your flaws. A sun makes you want to be better. A moon makes you see you’re alright as you are. A moon can be seen day and night, if you’re lucky, and it follows at your back. Jack is cratered and scarred in ways startlingly similar to himself and yet different, and he feels compelled to trace his hands along them as if to feel how the man before him formed. The man who endured asteroid after asteroid and yet survived where others were destroyed. Beautiful in his smoothness and his roughness. The moon and the sun are opposites, but complement each other beautifully. Together, they turn a rock into something more. Together, they embody the best of life. Together, they are beautiful.

Fantastic.

Bloody fantastic.

“Doctor?” a curious voice cuts in, bringing him out of his reverie. He shakes his head, looks away from the TARDIS console. Rose looks back at him, smiling teasingly, like she knows what exactly he's thinking about. “Are you okay? You look like you drifted off into space.”

“You haven’t picked up a tool for maintenance in twenty minutes,” Jack points out, matching smirk on his face. Dammit, they were double teaming him. He loved it when they did that (not like _that_ , inner Jack. ...Not _just_ like that, inner Jack). “But to be fair, I think his head’s always in space.”

Rose gives him an agreeing nod. “It’s true. Space, his greatest love. How can we compete?” she finishes with a joking pout.

“It _is_ bigger than either of us, so I know I can’t judge.”

“Ha ha,” the Doctor sarcastically laughs. “I’m thinking. I _do_ do that, from time to time.”

“About?” Rose asks, those big blue eyes focused on him. Jack’s smiling, relaxed and genuine. The Doctor feels a rush of gratitude and affection and… love overtake him, and he tries, let the universe know he tries to express his poetic, romantic thoughts.

But all that comes out after a brief pause is a short “You two,” as if they were something he just idly examined instead of them consuming his every thought. He looks away, feeling a heat go to his face and forcing it down cause he’ll be damned if anyone sees him blush. But a pair of arms circle around his waist, and a firm hand grabs his, as if they somehow know exactly what he means.

“Sweetheart,” Rose mutters, head against his waist.

“You brought this on yourself, Doc. You hit my most concealed kink. My dirtiest depravity. My favorite fetish. Emotional openness and affection. C’mon, let’s handle some other tools.” Jack waggles his eyebrows, Rose snorts, and even the Doctor can’t suppress his grin.

“Can’t get anything done around you two,” he complains for appearance’s sake as they start dragging him to the bedroom.

Rose hms. “I don’t know, I can’t think of two things getting done tonight…”

“Oh my god, Rose, I think you made him blush! You are the true master. I tip my hat at you.”

He’s trapped in their orbit, and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

 


End file.
